


Stay Away While the Clowns Play

by StarshineInTheDark



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Abuse, Asphyxiation, Assault, Bleeding, Blindfolds, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Broken Bones, Buried Alive, Burnplay, Choking, Coughing, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dislocation of bones, Electrocution, F/F, F/M, Fear, Fear exploitation, Fear of Death, Fever, Fire, Gore, Graphic Description, Hospital, Hospitals, Humiliation, Kidnapping, Knives, Lol what are these tags, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Breakdown, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pain, Psychological Torture, Purge AU, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Slapping, Sleep Deprivation, Stabbing, Suffering, Suicidal Thoughts, Taphophobia, Tears, The Purge, Torment, Torture, Unconsciousness, Vomiting, Waterboarding, Whipping, Whump, gun point, internal injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2020-12-17 11:17:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21053510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarshineInTheDark/pseuds/StarshineInTheDark
Summary: Purge AU drabbles- A multichapter.In which I hurt every team in Haikyuu.Warning: Gore, blood, whump, torture and general suffering. (It’s The Purge. What else do you expect?)





	1. Chain Game

**Author's Note:**

> lololol I have no idea why I wrote this… but this is the kind of content I like to make. I don’t want to hear any comments or readers complaining about the subject and all of that nasty stuff. Don’t like. Don’t read. Nuff said.

_Shlink_

_Shlink._

_Shlink_.

The air was heavy with darkness, atmosphere filled with the faint sounds of miserable screams of anguish and suffering from afar, begging and yelling and laughing of several kinds carrying with it the stench of smoke, blood and flames. Death danced along the whispers of the night’s stale, cold wind, hissing and crying like the punctured tires and ruined engines of the innocent vehicles laid to waste outside. 

_Shlink._

_Shlink._

** _Shlink_ ** _._

He could barely suppress the flinch in his bones as the chain dragging along the floor drew nearer, slowing to a stop only a certain distance away. 

Beside him, Yamaguchi was still coughing up blood, a trickle of it running down his chin and joining the litany of bruises and cuts on his face and body.

It had been two hours.

Exactly two hours since they’d been walking home, extremely oblivious to the dangers that would greet them that night, and had been caught off guard when the alarm had gone off. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi had been about to head down their own road, both talking about completing the essays they’d been assigned to for their Literature class during school, and Kageyama had lingered behind with Hinata, the both of them waiting for the other to see if they were up for one more round of volleyball before they finally retreated back to their various homes for the night. The streets had been as passively active as it always was, cars passing by occasionally and 24-hour hour shops switching staff for the duration of the night. 

Neither of them had known when the alarms would sound.

Neither of them had known about the marauders waiting for them in the hidden shadows of the dark.

Hinata was only grateful Yachi hadn’t decided to follow them this night.

_Shlink_.

The chain shifted again, and he couldn’t stop the trembling of his arms from where they’d been strung up on a chain falling from the ceiling, his wrists having been bruised and bloodied from when he’d been forced to struggle and pull against them various times during this torture session. They’d been trapped in the Karasuno gym for over two hours, the wooden floorboards that had just been wiped clean moments before now stained with blood, sweat and tears, his knees blistered from how long he’d knelt and scuffled them against the ground.

The tears and sweat on his face were yet to dry.

In front of Yamaguchi, only a short distance away, Tsukishima was just barely conscious, his arms held above him by the same chains keeping them all from full slumping on top the dirtied gym floors. A man held up the blonde by his hair, and though his face was masked, he could see the lurid grin stretching cruel lips into a wide smile. Like himself, the blonde’s mouth was taped shut, muffling the cry escaping his throat as a knife was plunged into his calf, blood spurting out immediately afterwards and trickling down the trembling limb into a growing puddle on the floor. He could see the stray tears running down his cheeks. His glasses had been broken and thrown off to the side hours ago.

The man held the knife in his leg and turned to a blindfolded Yamaguchi, the chains above the freckled teen rattling in his futile struggles as he heard his best friend cry out in pain for the nth time.

“Okay… what did I do to Kei just now? Hmm, Tadashi?” The man questioned, releasing the knife and leaving it embedded in pale muscle. “Try and get it right this time, okay? I know you don’t want to get hurt again…” His voice was leery, adding to the chilling atmosphere clouding the gymnasium. The chain a distance away dragged itself along the floor again, the looming threat writing itself across the air like it had done ever since it’s gleaming, metallic exterior had touched the wooden floorboards.

They’d been playing this game for the past hundred and twenty minutes. And counting.

_Still counting_.

After they’d been kidnapped and forced into chains, their names forcefully threatened out of them, Yamaguchi and Kageyama had been blindfolded, while Hinata and Tsukishima were gagged with tape. From then, the man and his lackies—two other people with similar masks—began _torturing_ them, switching between blades, sticks, fists and then the chain. The chain was the worst of them. The man would hurt the ones that were gagged, while he made the people blindfolded guess what was happening to them as he constantly ran his knives and slammed several things against their bodies. They were met with the heavy repercussions of the chain with every wrong answer they got and with every rule broken. 

Then they’d switch positions after forty-minute intervals, and start again.

This was his second round in this position.

“_Y-you…_” Yamaguchi coughed again, pitifully trembling as he fought against the pain and cold of the situation. “Y-you used th-the… the knife…”

_“And?”_

“And… y-you…” Hinata watched him grit his teeth in desperation and fear, fresh tears lining his face and dripping to the floor where the splatters were light against the wood, but heavy in his ears. “The—you st-stabbed him… w-with it…?”

“What did I say about making it sound like a question?”

“_Oh—oh _no… I-I’m sorry!” He instantly panicked, struggling against the chains as the man got up from where he crouched beside Tsukishima, boots plodding against the ground as he approached him with heavy steps. “I forgot! P-please—_I’m sorry_!”

“Shut up,” the man ordered, gesturing for the lacky holding the chain to ‘get to it’. Without hesitation, the man lifted it from the ground, its bloodied end raised into the air before swinging it downwards with full force. Yamaguchi knew it was coming and braced himself, yet, even though this had already been done more times than he’d bothered to count, he couldn’t bear the pure agony that came along with having the two-meter metallic chain land against his ribs, cutting through skin and muscle and shattering both bone and sinew. The agonized cry that roared through his throat was feral, like a living creature being burnt alive.

Hinata had nearly instinctively shut his eyes and looked away as the chain made contact and his friend was hurt _again_, but there were consequences against that too.

“_Don’t make the answers sound like questions_.” The man spat as he watched the suffering teen slump forward, the chain the only thing stopping his head from hitting the ground, his lips mumbling out several unintelligible words as he let the all-consuming pain devour him. Yamaguchi was seriously _trembling_, and no one could do **_anything_** about it. “Don’t look away during the game. Don’t hesitate with your replies. Don’t get them wrong. And most important of all… _don’t make me repeat the rules_.” The man bent down again, this time in front of Yamaguchi, and pulled his head up by his hair, the blindfold preventing them from seeing eye-to-eye. “I should whip you again for breaking the last one, but I’m feeling merciful.”

He dropped his head not-so-gently, the chain pulling painfully at his arms as he was suspended mid-air, seconds from hitting the ground.

“One last chance, okay Tadashi?” he proposed, moving back towards Tsukishima who tried his best to scoot away from the man, not that it did much good. Hinata never thought the tall, salty teen could have made any other expression besides his condescending, taunting looks and disdainful glares. Seeing him look like he was begging for his life right now was beyond painful.

Grabbing his hair and forcefully pushing him forwards, he held him down and seized his left arm, bending it backward and using the chain as leverage to speed up the action of his newest torture. Hinata wasn’t even aware of the tears escaping his eyes, only trying not to throw up the rest of his lunch as he watched the man bend, bend and bend till a sickening ‘_pop’_ met his ears and Tsukishima’s final, loudest scream died down along with the light in his eyes. In front of him, he saw Kageyama trying to hold down the contents of his stomach, crouching into himself and biting his lip as he tried to breathe.

He was also wearing a blindfold, but he didn’t need to see what had happened to _know_.

On his side, Yamaguchi had already thrown up after screaming out his best friend’s name in agitated panic, spilling vomit down his chin and shirt till it landed on the floor.

“Can you guess what I did, Tadashi?” The man sounded the least bothered about what he just did to another human being, letting go of the unconscious blonde so his—_broken? Dislocated?_ —arm hung at an abnormal angle. He looked to Yamaguchi again, not minding the way he heaved and coughed, blood still trickling down his chin from the corner of his mouth.

Yamaguchi inhaled shakily, his breaths far from even as he sobbed and quivered. “Y-you… you d-dislocated a bone,” he replied, trying to swallow and cringing into himself as though the action itself was painful. “In his… h-his arm…”

“Which part?”

“His…” He coughed, streams of tears and agony lining his cheeks as he tried to inhale in more air. “His e-elbow…” 

Hinata saw the grin behind the man’s mask as he reviewed his victim’s answer. “Correct.”

At that, the relieved slump of Yamaguchi’s shoulders was ever so visible as he was, for that round, mitigated from having to bear another _long, atrocious _period of utter pain and torture. Though he couldn’t hep but hear his teammate’s unsettled mutterings and whispers, mumbles of ‘I’m so sorry Tsukki. _I’m sorry. I’m sorry_.’ and ‘_It’ll be okay. It’ll soon be over_’ being whispered over and over in an unending mantra through bloodstained lips.

Hinata gulped, staring sadly at the state of the freckled teen and the still unconscious blonde, his stomach rolling every time his eyes accidentally veered upwards to stare at the dislocated arm, the bone pushing crudely against skin in a manner that just wasn’t _natural_.

Only to be forced away by a hand against his scalp, pulling at his matted strands so he faced upwards and into the covered gaze of the masked man. If his trembling from before had stopped, they instantly continued at the notion of the man’s sudden close proximity. It didn’t need to be spelled out loud, nor did it need to be said, because at that moment, it was so painfully clear.

_It_ _ was his turn._


	2. Flames of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They hadn’t even been given a proper warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm back again with another chapter of Stay Away (finally!), and this one is relatively tame compared to the last chapter. Before you begin, you should know this fic has an actual plot and timeline(besides the torture which was the main idea for creating this in the first place), which is why I'm going to be doing a little POV switching as we progress. (Never fear though!) The suffering never ends here! Till next time, enjoy! (Posting every one or two Saturdays or Sundays maybe.)

Everyone had been caught unaware.

It wasn’t like no one hadn’t known about it, but like the masses and 95.5% of the population had speculated, it was just a bluff, a ruse made by the government to drive the minority and its populace away from the country, a scheme to get everyone to pay their dues to a cause that may or may not affect the state of the economy to the country’s favor.

But then the alarm had sounded, and everything had gone to complete and utter chaos.

_They hadn’t even been given a proper warning_.

Cars had just suddenly started crashing, people had begun screaming, buildings were set on fire—_people_ were set on fire—and those weren’t even the worst of them. Kuroo had seen a man literally beheading a lady with what had to be an actual-live Guillotine. And that had just been five minutes after the sound of the alarm, just as he and Kenma were leaving the train station on their way home.

After witnessing such an atrocity, _he’d booked it_, dragging Kenma along as he tore away from the scene which had instantly turned chaotic in the mere moments they’d left, ducking away from masked men carrying machetes and knives, and people—_teenagers_—holding flame torches and glow in the dark signs that read: ‘The Purge has begun.’

Outside, someone had screamed aloud on a megaphone, declaring the beginning of their current madness.

_“It’s time, brothers and sisters, to rid the world of the impurities that have forsaken our land, to cut off the sin that reeks from our filthy inhumane bodies. The time has come, for the purge to cleanse our souls and purify our weakened minds, to…”_

“Can you believe this shit?” Kuroo’s dad cursed through the phone, having called him after the announcement had been made on the news, which had been cut off as soon as they’d officially started the ‘purge’ shit that had sent vehicles and people screeching. He was only glad the phone signals were still working, although once in a while it would distort and he’d lose touch with his dad for a few minutes.

At the moment, he was currently in Kenma’s house. His own home had been empty upon arrival, with his dad stuck at work and his grandparents having gone out on one of their nightly trips.

Kenma’s parents had suggested he stay with them until the entire thing blew over, helping them barricade their doors and windows and huddling in the living room, each occupant armed with something to help defend themselves against any hostile intruder who thought their home would be a convenient place to rob. Beside him, Kenma’s eyes were fixed on the PSP screen in his hands, the subtle sounds of the game’s background music playing softly in the thick silence of the room as his dad periodically peeked through the windows, checking for any of the gun wielding, chainsaw carrying maniacs looking to kill people for no good reason.

Kuroo sighed for the umpteenth time, wondering if he could dig his earpieces deeper into his ear canals so he could blot out the screams and general chaos erupting from the outside.

“I know dad, it’s fine. We’ve been safe here for at least an hour,” he reassured his worried parent, digging his hand into his pant pocket and feeling the hundred yen notes still folded inside. He’d been planning on buying himself his usual after school smoothie as soon as practice was over, and maybe one for Kenma too. But then the alarm had sounded and all his plans had been thrown out the window.

“How are you? Are you safe?”

“I’m okay Tetsurou,” his dad replied, the intensity in his tone softening as he released a tired breath. “The building has a safe room, and the security’s trying to keep us safe for now. I’m coming home as soon as this is over, alright?”

Kuroo hummed, sitting down beside Kenma and slumping against the backrest.

“Alright… do you know if Oba-san and Oji-san are okay? They’re not picking—”

“I know… I know…” His dad sounded tired, little shuffling noises sounding from the other side, sounding as though he was pacing back and forth. “I’m trying too. Hopefully we’ll get a good enough signal in a few minutes.”

“Yeah…” He nodded solemnly. “Hopefully…” Behind, he could hear Kenma’s parents holding a conversation, the tones of their voices sounding more and more frenzied as the seconds passed and the chaos became nothing but a distant noise in the back scenes. “Dad?” he spoke into the receiver, observing how Kenma’s attention had been piqued away from his PSP as well, widened eyes fixated on his quarreling mom and dad. “I’ll call you back soon. Love you.”

“Love you too, son.” And with that, the phone beeped as he finally cut the call, grunting as he rose up from his seating position and peered over at his best friend’s parents as they argued heatedly with each other in the front entrance.

“What’s wrong?” he voiced, Kenma shrugging as he himself had no clue.

Just then, a loud knock banged repeatedly against the door, imparting a desperation so frantic and critical that he feared whoever was outside would knock down the door itself.

When the persistent knocks had died down, and the barricades at the door stayed thankfully stable, Kenma’s mother pointed ardently at the barricaded door, a frown more aggressive than he’d ever seen on her face marring her features and distorting her usually calm visage.

“_I’m telling you Koichi, if there’s someone out there who **needs **our help and we didn’t _help _them_—”

“And what if it’s one of those… those _savages_? Think about what would happen if we let them into our home. _Think about Kenma and Tetsurou_.”

“The woman outside said she has _a _baby Koichi… I **_am _**thinking about the kids,” she retorted back. “I’m thinking… what if I was in her shoes? What if I had my baby with me and—”

The person outside pounded against the door again. _Heavier and Louder and growing more and more desperate_—

“—And all I wanted was to protect them?” His mother now seemed torn between screwing the argument and opening the door anyway, and trying to get her husband to agree with her notion so they could work together. “Please Koichi… I won’t feel well leaving someone out there like that… You know it’s not safe… She might—”

More knocking against the door. And this time, a voice.

_“Please…,” _they begged, and like he’d heard from their conversation, it was a lady outside, knocking frantically against the door like she intended to knock the wooden structure over. _ “Let me and my baby in. I’m begging you…! Please… Even if it’s just my baby!”_

Kenma’s mother sent her husband a pointed look.

_“Please," she continued to beg. "I don’t want to die…”_

The bespectacled man hesitated as his hand reached for the door’s handle, stilting in his motions as the lady banged on the door again. Kenma’s mom let out an impatient groan.

“Koichi!”

“_I’m a little cautious…! Give me a sec_,” his father urged, then sighed and turned back to Kenma and Kuroo, seeing the two teenagers had been listening in on their little dispute about opening the doors for over a moment now. “Hey, boys?” he positioned his hand on the door handle, looking more than ‘a little cautious’. There was visible sweat lining his brow, and there was a certain tremble in his wrist as he rested it on the ledge of the handle. “Mind helping me check the windows upstairs?” he suggested. “I need to know if they’ve been properly fortified while I open the doors.”

Kuroo watched Kenma pause and stare at his parents for a second, his thumbs unmoving across the pads of his game console as his brow furrowed slightly.

“But… haven’t we already done that twice?”

“I know we have,” his mother replied, nodding and offering a reassuring smile, her tone soft yet urgent. “We’re just... making sure it’s extra safe for the visitor, you know? Don’t worry, Kenma." Her lips stretched into a gentle smile. "We’ll be here when you get back.”

Kenma’s brows furrowed some more, his muscles twitching anxiously before softening slightly, his lips, parted like he’d been about to say something coming to a stop as he stood up and made for the stairs to the second floor. Kuroo followed without another word, sparing the blonde's parents a final glance before proceeding to trail behind his childhood friend up the stairs to the other floor.

The hallways and rooms were lighted up, contrary to the eerie pandemonium that was Tokyo’s current state, the floors and walls as normal and clean as they always were, the casualness of his official second home still remaining a comforting constant even in the middle of what seemed like the end of the world. And though the windows were definitely well boarded up and fortified with enough metal, wood and nails to build a cabin, Kuroo could almost _almost _forget that someone had been stabbed in the stomach two blocks away from his house.

He could almost forget the bone chilling feeling of absolute _fear_ that had stricken him in the chest after hearing someone scream bloody murder as they’d been amputated by a _chainsaw_.

His teeth drew blood from where they’d pierced through his lower lip.

Kenma, earphones in his ears this time, stayed hunched up in a corner by his room, trying to finish up his recent game.

Kuroo inhaled in a breath.

_Okay… calm down._

_It’s okay_. They’re not as close as he thinks. They’re probably only going to raid rich houses and stores and random people they see walking on the streets. They definitely wouldn’t go near Kenma’s family. Or his family. They wouldn't, would they?

_Of course not_. They were fine.

He was fine.

“Kuro,” Kenma’s voice cut across his thoughts, dragging him away from the infinite spiraling depth that was his mind. He looked away from where his fingers had been tapping incessantly against the wooden window boards, his eyes coming across dark-amber orbs staring straight into his being. It almost seemed like Kenma was trying to read his mind. _It almost seemed like he'd **already **read his mind_. “You’re worried, aren’t you?”

He blinked. “… What…?”

“It’s why you keep hitting the walls with your fingers,” he points out. “Also, your bleeding,” Kenma added, gesturing towards his mouth and tracing a finger down his chin. Kuroo instinctively put his hand to his mouth, feeling liquid immediately against the pads of his fingers. He stared at the blood and cringed inwardly at the sight. _He wasn’t usually afraid of blood, but looking at it during this kind of night was a little off-putting._ Kenma let out a breath as he watched Kuroo try and fail to wipe the blood of his face, most of it just spreading and staining the sides of his cheeks and back of his hands.

“You can go to the bathroom,” he advised, putting an earpiece that had fallen out back into his ear and concentrating once more on the game. “I don’t like blood. It’s creepy,” he muttered finally, brows furrowed slightly as the tunes indicating the loss of a level rang out subtly. Kuroo blinked at the shorter male once more and heaved out a sigh, nodding and heading for he direction of the house’s bathrooms.

He passes down the hallway and takes a left, losing sight of Kenma as the adjourning wall cuts into his vision.

_He bites his lip again_.

It was fine, wasn’t it? He was sure his dad was fine. And that his grandparents were also fine. The murderers wouldn’t target an old couple, would they? _Of course not._

It was absolutely ridiculous to even consider thinking about it.

It’s been up to an hour since The Purge had begun, and according to the alarm, it would end in another five hours. As far as he was concerned, none of his neighbors were potential psychopaths. _He played soccer with them when they were kids for goodness sake_. And other than the guy that had stabbed some dude in an alley a few blocks away, the streets to their home had been relatively empty—though the noises of chaos miles away was unending. If his dad and grandparents were to somehow make it back home in one piece, they would be safe in the confines of their house till the entire thing blew over. 

Kuroo turned on the faucet, watching the water run down the drain.

_Yeah… that’s right_.

Besides the occasional screaming erupting from the distance, _their_ street was relatively empty, wasn't it?

_So why was the lady outside the door in such a panic?_

Maybe she’d run away from another neighborhood where a majority of the marauders were stationed, and had gone over to theirs seeking shelter. It made a lot of sense. _It should make a lot of sense_.

But still, Kuroo’s guts churned.

He splashed a handful of water against his face.

_Kenma was right. He was way too worried_. He should probably follow his friend’s lead. Listen to some music. Play some video games. Watch some comedy, maybe. Anything to calm his fraying nerves.

_Anything to stop the visions of his loved ones and friends and family dying in the most horrible, terrible ways_.

He turned off the faucet, dragging a hand down his face and looking into the mirror.

_He just needed to breathe. Relax and breathe. _

_And **stop** **worrying**._

Overhead, the ceiling lights flickered, and Kuroo had only a moment to blink before the lights went completely out, and he was plunged into darkness.

Before he could take a single step forward, a high-pitched scream rang out across the house, and it was all he could do before the sounds of crashing windows and breaking doors echoed all around him.

It was all he could do before he heard the resonating bang of gunshots, and what should have been a horrified scream dying down to nothing before it could have begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Insert evil laughter* I love cliffhangers. Literally. Extra gore and suffering in the next chapter! See ya next week! <3<3<3
> 
> ~Sincerely, Star.


	3. Judgment Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your judgement has started, Oikawa Tooru. Good luck.”
> 
> (In which I torture Oikawa cuz why not 😛)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the late update, (And that includes all my other fics). But I've been lacking the inspiration to write until recently. I just finished the next two and half chapters so updates for Stay Away might not come in as slow as before.
> 
> And as for my other fics, the next chapters of One Hour and Then, Taken and And We Finally Reached the Stars have already been written, so I should be able to update them this week! I've been busy with my family and school work and stuff, so my writing had to take a break for a while. Although I'd been coming up with several ideas and plot lines during my time away. Like there was ever a chance I could forget this masterpiece.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy me torturing, humiliating, and making Oikawa cry.
> 
> Probably no need for Chapter Warnings.

_“Alright, alright…! Sup bitches. As you should know, it’s Purge Night here in Japan! And to celebrate out first ever Night of Horrors, I’m here today with my buddy Take and we’re currently… at an empty sweat shop. Yeah, yeah I know it’s not the usual sneak-into-my-uncle’s-safe kinda stunt, but I promise, what we have planned for tonight is gonna **blow** your **fucking** minds. Bet you’re excited right? And even better, we’ll be having a special guest joining us tonight for the first time…! Say hi Oikawa-san!”_

Oikawa jolted harshly as the sack was pulled off his head. His nostrils were greeted by a fresh draft of oxygen and his eyes fluttered rapidly at the cannonade of light reflecting against his vision. His sight was sensitive after he’d been blinded for what had to be over an hour.

In front of him, one of the boys had shoved a camera into his face.

“Well Oikawa kun…” the one with a plain mask taunted, waving the device back and forth before him so whoever was watching could see every angle of the terror littering his eyes. “_Say hi to the fans…_”

The chaffed ropes around his wrists burned as he tried for the nth time to undo the binds, his shoulders shaking, both in anger and undisputed rage despite the deep underlying desperation pooling in his gut.

He was in a store.

_But he wasn’t in just any store_.

Above, someone, the second guy most likely, grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged till he was fully facing the camera, his scalp feeling like it was being torn apart by a knife as the hands dragged and pulled and tugged harshly on his locks, trying to control his futile attempts at pulling his face away from the view of the camera. _It didn’t help._ He bit ruthlessly on the gag between his teeth as they tried to raise him from the floor using his hair alone, doing all he could to keep his cries at bay._ They already got his face. They already knew who he was_.

On the top of the store’s counter, a laptop sat facing the boy holding the camera, one side of the screen filled with comments that kept on popping up at several seconds per minute, each one of them a different user, each one of them seeing what was happening, and doing absolutely _nothing _to stop it. In fact, they seemed encouraging.

** _Taki-Kita: _ ** _Holy shit I know that dude! We’re in the same chem class!!!_

** **

** _AStan’sMan: _ ** _Omg is this gonna be some kind of BDSM skit kinda thing? I’m kinda into that._

** **

** _Kaz9898: _ ** _@AStan’sMan I fuckin hope so. Can’t wait to see this guy wet his pants._

** _Taki-Kita: _ ** _I’m being so fucking serious… that’s Oikawa Tooru. We’re literally in the same school._

“Ohoho… _this_ is amazing…” the male hums, snickering as his eyes roamed over the screen. “Great reception guys! And we haven’t even started yet. _Wonder what’ll happen when we begiiinn_.” Behind him, right at the back of the store, Oikawa’s eyes flicked over to the storage door, where he saw it crack open a small degree, and then slam shut, the click barely audible over the sounds of the male’s laughter and continually pinging laptop.

_Good… good. Just stay still for now…_

He silently pleaded, quick to direct his eyes away from the storage door when the male directed his camera and attention back to him.

_“Alright_! I guess it’s time to share the rules…” he paused dramatically, leaning the camera even further against his face. “Of a game I’d like to call: _Judgment hour_.”

** _Anon_Y36: _ ** _Holy shit that sounds so cool._

** _GiriGiri9Bun: _ ** _I’m so glad we have a signal right now. Communication’s down in like, 30% of Tokyo._

**_AStan’sMan: _**_Guess we got lucky __😁_.

“So basically,” He turned the camera back to his face, but made sure to back him probably so the watchers would still see him. “It goes like this: _This guy_,” The male jabbed a thumb in his general direction, sending his body rigid. “He has some _sins_ to recompense for. _Oh, _and there are **_loads _**of em, just so you know… Take-kun, would you like to tell the fans one the many sins our dear _Tooru_ has committed to deserve any judgment we may pass down to him this fateful night?”

“Gladly.”

_Sins… judgment…??? What were they talking about? What—?_

The second male, Take, appeared behind him suddenly, surprise gripping his chest as a handful of his hair was seized and pulled, the assault dragging painfully at his scalp.

“Sin number one, second year, the day before Valentine’s, the day before you ruined everything…

“I was about to ask my girlfriend out on a date, got her flowers and everything,” Take explained, and Oikawa swallowed, listening intently to every word he uttered. “I even bought her those earrings she always wanted. Mako’s a pretty shallow thing, she goes for what everyone wants, jewelry, clothes, comfort… so winning her heart with money wasn’t all that hard, but then _you _came along.” Wretchedly, the fist trying to rip his hair off his head tightened, causing his teeth to grit in pain. “She saw you playing your _stupid _volleyball match, saw how everyone gathered around you… saw how they _loved _you. And then she didn’t even think twice about it. She dumped me, just to get a chance with you. _Just because she **thought** she had a chance_,

“And a few days later, I find her crying at the back, saying you _rejected_ her,” he spat, pulling harshly before shoving his face down, crouching so his face was beside his ear, his heated, angry breaths hitting against his skin. “That was evil of you, you know. She actually liked you, and I actually liked _her_… You caused her so much pain that day. Do you even regret it?”

_Regret—_

_He barely even remembers her… And he always let’s down everyone easy! H-he never let anyone of them leave without a smile…_

_He’d—_

“Sin number two.”

He wasn’t in just any store…

He’d left the house an hour ago to get a few things before dinner at the 24-hour store close to his house, his nephew accompanying him because his parents were out for date night, and his sister and her girls wanted to watch a movie, leaving Takeru alone with him at home. The streets had been terribly empty, although he’d expected it some because of the rumors flying around about The Purge arriving in Japan and _yadda, yadda, yadda_ he couldn’t remember the rest, really. Mostly cause he didn’t pay any of it any mind.

Although the coach had closed practice early and ensured everyone had gone home because of it. He was also aware that they may have been rumors, but he’d wanted to be cautious.

An hour after his parents and sister were out, he and Takeru left for the store.

_The walk had never felt so creepy and disturbing_.

Even worse when entering the place, and finding everything empty and abandoned, the shelves still stacked full of goods, and the cash register left unattended. He’d tried calling to see if maybe one of them had been in the storage closet or latrines and just hadn’t heard them clearly, but those had been empty as well. It was when he’d been about leaving the store, not willing to take something without anyone being there, when he’d been cornered by the two masked males currently attacking him.

He’d lost track of his young nephew during the skirmish, and had only noticed he’d hidden in the storage closet only after he’d seen frightened little eyes peeking at him through the crack of the slightly open door.

_The same frightened eyes were looking at him now, probably scared for his life, terrified to move or even speak_.

If he came out, Oikawa didn’t know what he’d do.

“_Sin number three_—”

Constantly, the comments on the laptop flowed down the screen in an endless stream, arriving in continuous batches like a never-ending waterfall, each person spewing secrets in the form of lies that only further worsened his condition the more they kept coming.

** _GiriGiri9Bun: _ ** _I can’t believe he did that_

** _IDKlo0: _ ** _Omg, did he actually do that tho? Harsh much_

** _Jom1111: _ ** _Thought he was cool guy, didn’t know he was an actual dick._

** _2dayzmeel: _ ** _@Jom1111 I actually knew he was a real bitch. He told me to fuck off once when I asked him to teach me how to play one time._

** _Jom1111: _ ** _Seriously?_

_No, no, no that wasn’t true. It wasn’t true—_

** _KillMongerWestley: _ ** _He left a note in my locker telling me to kill myself after I told him off in front of his friends the other day._

** _2dayzmeel: _ ** _Oml what a bitch I can’t even-_

** _Kaz9898: _ ** _When is this gonna start? I want to see what you guys do to him. _

“As you can see, _a lot_ of sins to atone for,” the male holding the camera says, obviously grinning like a shark behind the mask. “Your judgement has started, Oikawa Tooru. Good luck.”

**…**

** _“We have our first request from Ozz_Dozz292… Ohoho and this one’s a good one! Anon says: ‘Let’s embarrass him! Make him cross-dress!’”_ **

Oikawa’s arms ached from where they’d been suspended by tight rope high against a post nailed to the wall, the threat of a gun constantly bumping against his head the only thing keeping him from physically rebelling. The boy in charge of the stream had fixed his camera in a better position required to capture every angle of Oikawa’s form on the floor, the laptop itself facing him so he could see just how pathetic and helpless he looked. _How scared, and afraid and **terrified.**_

He did his best to avoid the laptop.

“So, our dearest watchers have chosen your first punishment.” The masked boy announced, a grin behind his bemused voice. Oikawa could feel his heart beat with distress against his chest, the quick pulsations sending dark streams of dread across his veins. Through his fear his hands shook, desperate to release himself from his binds before his torture would come into fruition, but a sharp slam of the nozzle against the side of his head and a quick warning glare from his second assaulter stilled his movements once more.

Nearly all the lights in the store were either damaged or turned off, leaving only the one flickering right above them.

Like a scene from a horror movie, the boy in the plain mask began to chuckle as he stared at the screen, then read out the words suggested by an anonymous watcher, delight and humor coating every inch of his tone.

Oikawa could only feel his stomach churn with unease.

_That there were people so willing to watch someone get tortured and hurt and displayed like that with no remorse. That people were so cruel—_

_That he was going to get hurt and there was no one to save him—_

The male left for less than thirty seconds and returned with something wrapped in a nylon package, dropping it on the floor and then approaching Oikawa with an overwhelming amount of sadistic cruelty radiating from his presence. Oikawa opted to scoot away, bound feet pushing against the tile and further shoving himself backwards until his head ran into the gun’s nozzle and it was once more jabbed against his skull, the back of his head throbbing from the mere knowledge that there was a gun armed with bullets that could be shot through his brain at any second.

“Hold still now Oikawa…” The male leered, crouching down before him, his face less than a foot away from his. _He could feel the male’s every breath, _his words hitting him with untamed hostility as he spoke. “As long as you cooperate, you won’t get hurt. Well… you won’t get hurt _too _badly.” He snickered, and then withdrew a pocket knife from his side.

The blade glinted against the singular lighting. _Oikawa’s heart nearly stopped_.

They were going to harm him.

He could feel a plea about to pass through muffled lips, but he was easily silenced by the gag, and the feel of the blade placed against his jugular.

“Oh my God.” The male laughed again his snickers purely amused, eating like hungered animals at his fear laden terror. “He’s fucking _shaking_,” he says to the camera, chuckling as he briefly reads something off the screen. “The people like it, Oikawa-kun~” The boy mused cheerfully. “How does it feel, knowing so many people want to hurt you as much as I do? _You’re such a fucking wimp. You make me sick_.” He spat, causing him to flinch backwards, desperate to escape the sadistic gazes of his captors but too afraid to even move.

It felt like someone had hit a switch, revving up the trembling of every inch of his body as the knife trailed down his neck and came in contact with the top of Oikawa’s shirt, the sharpened edge ripping a section of the neckline ever so slowly.

All the while, Oikawa could make out the jaw splitting demonic grin on the other side of the mask.

“_Let’s break you_.”

The knife, slow in cutting off his clothes in one moment, instantly slit through the rest of the shirt in one, swift go, leaving the black vest underneath. The shirt was quickly tossed to the side, and he was quick to move on to his trousers.

He could feel himself hyperventilate. _They were going to—!_

Instinctively, he’d kicked as soon as the blade had nicked softly against his belly, right at the near-bottom of his V-line where the knife was on its journey to ripping off his pants.

He couldn’t stop himself from shaking.

_People were watching_.

He was getting stripped on live camera and people were _watching him—_

As though he hadn’t moved in retaliation to the knife tearing through his clothes, the masked boy merely adjusted his position and sat above his legs, knees pressing painfully into his calves and the soles of his boots holding down his ankles to the floor, sending him down another level of discomfort. A whine escaped him as he attempted to get him off, but the boy only cut a swift shallow line through his stomach in response to his retaliation, causing him to halt and cringe at the pain of having his skin slashed.

He couldn’t ignore the lines of blood slowly trickling, _oozing_ down his skin and soaking down his abdomen and through his briefs. He couldn’t ignore the tears that gathered at his eyes as the heat of the injury seemed to linger for way too long.

“I _did _say not to move,” the boy simply muttered, carrying on in ripping off his trousers, uncaring of the amount of dread he was spreading through his being.

Soon enough, the bottom half of his body was free of external wear, both of his ripped attire tossed to the side like wasted rags, leaving Oikawa exposed in just his vest and underwear, his shoes having been removed and kept away as well.

As the male stood up, he could only attempt to shield himself and whatever he could salvage of his dignity before that too was taken from him, his assaulter busying himself with whatever was in the wrap for a moment before emerging with what looked like…

Oikawa’s eyes widened.

_It was a dress_. A nice-looking maid dress too, the decorated hem trimmed to perfection, net lining the surface of the elastic waist and, adorned with black and white bows, a bigger red one at the neck of the collar bejeweled at the center with a deep, crimson stone—obviously fake, but shining against the spot of light from the ceiling.

And they made him wear it, forcing his limbs through the fixed spaces and slashing his skin with the blade with every resistance met, amusement shining in the eyes of the two males as they managed to get him into it. It had come with a pair of thigh-high socks too, which hadn’t even been requested, but was forced to wear as well for their own sick amusement.

As soon as they were done, he was displayed to the viewers.

_And he could see the comments on the screen well. The lewd commentary and appraisals complementing him in a way that would make anyone want to throw up._

** _Kaz9898: _ ** _Oh fuck, Oh God I could cum from this_

** _2dayzmeel: _ ** _Holy shit. This is actually happening he looks like a fucking slut _

** _Ozz_Dozz292: _ ** _Omg I’ve always wanted to see him in skirt. This looks fantastic! Definitely masturbating to this right now_

Embarrassment and humiliation crawled up his spine, it’s cold grip spreading through his heated skin in a way that felt like slime crawling just underneath the surface. His eyes welled with tears as comments kept on coming and coming, none of them pointing out how wrong this was… none of them showing even a tiny hint of humanity. He folded into himself, trying as much as he could—though it was variably impossible—to hide away from the gaze of the camera, _of the people who looked his pain and fear like it was something to enjoy_. He tilted his head down so he wasn’t facing the camera, letting the tears drip slowly from his eyes and down his chin.

He felt the burn of the injuries against his skin.

_No one was going to save him_.

_Everyone was_—

His body jolted upright from instant shock as a gush of cold water poured down his body, dowsing his hair, and face and drenching the maid dress, causing the clothing to stick uncomfortably to his body. His hair was sopping wet by the time the water had stopped pouring and the sound of discarded plastic echoed against the floor, brunet locks displaced from the carefully done hairstyle stuck to the side of his face, wet, fallen bangs dropping over his forehead.

His throat hacked with coughs, nose burning and muscles shivering from the sudden attack.

Above him, the two males chuckled, the masked one reaching from somewhere behind a shelf—a fridge, most likely—and producing a huge 2litre bottle filled with nothing but ice-cold water from the bottom to the brim.

“Oi, don’t look so depressed so soon, Oikawa,” the male spoke, swift fingers moving already to uncork the cover of the bottle. “Your second punishment has come in.”

** _“From Todaku Tomoko: Drench him in water. He’s gonna look so good, all wet and shivering like that for us.”_ **

Oikawa didn’t have time to breathe before a cloth was being wrapped over his eyes and nose, and the second bottle of water was being dowsed on him again, the shock causing him to jolt once more, the sensation of drowning causing his wrists to pull taut against the rough ropes in a bid to escape the torture.

By the time the seventh bottle had made it through, his lungs were burning from oxygen deprivation, wrists stinging and throbbing from having consistently rubbed them raw, coughs and desperate gasps for air hacking his sore, aching throat, trying to dislodge the water out from where it didn’t belong. His limbs were shivering from the amount of cold water constantly being decanted over his body, the sopping wet clothes only worsening the trembling of his bones and the rattling of his teeth.

Oikawa couldn’t see the comments streaming down the laptop this time; however, he could hear the dings of the ongoing litany of constant appraisals, the excitement of the audience so painfully apparent. Before he could fully catch his breaths, his hair was grabbed and pulled back, his head tilting backwards till he was forced to face the ceiling.

This time, the water was emptied directly over his face, and he was unable to stop the struggle of his limbs against the holds of the binds as the cold, icy liquid dowsing down his face felt like he was sinking in an ocean of turbulent water, the hand on his head preventing him from escaping the onslaught of water till he was all but _begging_ for air at the end of it, frightened, terrified tears joining the drips of water still soaking the rag over his face even after the bottle had long since been discarded.

Oikawa couldn’t breathe. _Everywhere burned and shivered at the same time, his lungs were sweltering, his throat seared from his endless cries for relief, his nose throbbed and ached —he couldn’t breathe_.

He begged. He tried to beg. Even though the cloth held down his tongue and silenced his voice, he tried.

_Takeru was still watching_.

Oikawa could feel sobs shake his shoulders, adding to the breathlessness that left him gasping for air, his wrists raw and blistered from the ropes.

_The only person that cared about him in that room was still watching, and he was unable to do anything about it._

They could hurt him… If they noticed he was there, they’d hurt him. They’d make him cry because they knew it would hurt Oikawa. They’d make him suffer so Oikawa would suffer.

_Takeru… I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I swear I’ll get you out. Just stay in there a while_

_Just stay hidden…_

_It’ll be alright_—_only if you stay hidden._

Oikawa wished to whisper these things to the scared, seven-year-old boy hiding in the broom closet, but his thoughts were instantly ripped away from him as water cascaded down his face once more, his muffled sobs and pleading cries inherently ignored, and the trembling and pain in his limbs increasing tenfold as his lungs and sanity were put through another round of ceaseless, endless suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't been in my best mood while I was writing this, so while I feel it may be a good chapter, I also feel like it pales in comparison to the first one. Lol I really dunno, tell me what you think maybe.
> 
> Next chapter we resume The Chain Game! (PART II) Hope ya'll are ready for more blood and suffering! See ya later lovlies<3<3<3
> 
> ~Sincerely, Star.


	4. Chain Game II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He wanted to die._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaay, a somewhat early-ish chapter at the beginning of the year!!!!  
I don't really have much else to say, except maybe to sit back and enjoy as much as you can!

_He wanted to die._

_He wanted to die. He wanted to die. He wanted to die. He wanted—_

His throat burned with the choked scream echoing out into the space of the bloodied gym, his lower back _burning_ from where the chain made brutal contact against battered skin. The air he tried inhaling escaped him, his lungs scorching every time he tried to breathe, and his muscles twitching in pain with every movement he made. His wrists were already numb, constant stings of bruised skin nothing but an endless irritation as he dangled from the binds holding his upper body up from the floor.

He wasn’t sure whether the _splat_ against the ground was his own blood or vomit.

“Wrong answer.”

The punishing chain clattered back onto the floor, his spasming muscles incapable of flinching like it once used to after hearing even the slightest jolts of the torturous tool.

_He couldn’t feel anything else except anguish. Everything hurt**.**_

** _Everything _ ** _hurt_ ** _._ **

Kageyama coughed wetly, unable to recognize the wheeze of his own breaths as he tried inhaling and exhaling oxygen that would never come. Every movement caused ripples of pain to reverberate through his limbs. _Everything was too much…_ His whole body ached and stung and **_burned_**. It was like he was on fire and his body just continued to burn and melt without cease. It was like it wouldn’t stop until he was dead. **_It was like he wanted to die_**. But he wasn’t dead yet—_No matter how many times he wished for it he wasn’t dead. Not yet_.

And he _had_ wished for it to stop, countless times. Countless times through the pain of having a metal rope whipped across his skin and muscle and flesh, through the cries and screams of his teammates as they _suffered and suffered for no reason_—suffered till they ran out of breath and tears and blood—**_and for what?_**. Countless times through the endless splatters of blood and vomit on the floor.

Countless times he prayed and begged, but in return, he was nothing but ignored.

It didn’t stop.

**_It wouldn’t stop_**.

“Alright, Tobio,” Despite being on the threshold of unconsciousness, he could hear the man’s voice as it emerged behind him, leering and terrifying in every sense as he felt his presence draw nearer. He could do nothing but allow the fear of the surrounding darkness consume him.

The chain rattled against the floor again, and on instinct his body went rigid, awaiting a punishment that would continue to come and come until all he could do was wait till he could feel no more. “You’ve failed ten out of thirty guesses in the span of… forty minutes.” Through the haze of his mind, he still could make out the disappointment littering the man’s tone. It was as though he was hearing him in a dream, unconsciousness dancing lithely across his slowly deteriorating awareness with every passing second.

“As unexpected as that was of you, I’m willing to give you _one more chance_ to redeem yourself,” he spoke, the disappointed yet amused lilt of his voice losing all meaning and consequence. Kageyama’s mind dangled on a balance between holding on to reality and slipping into the depths of darkness, unable to lift himself up from where he still hung suspended inches from the floor. _His mind drew nearer towards his dreams, where he could still hear the whistles of the chains in the air and the crunch of bones and lives shattered against them._

“Just _one_ more chance, Tobio-kun. Aren’t I kind?” the man said, brushing soft, gentle fingers over his sweat-coated forehead, and pulling apart the sticky strands of matted hair that lay plastered against his burning skin. He could feel his numb wrists being pulled back, his body lifting from the ground, and his legs folding back into his kneeling position on the floors. The fingers continued to linger against his skin. It was almost comforting—_It was comforting_—his hands were cool against the heated, battered surface, and he could do nothing to prevent his head from leaning forward to press further against them.

But then the man leaned away, and he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes as the sweet lulls of unconsciousness faded away, pain bleeding into the blindfold covering his vision.

“_I’m kind, aren’t I?_ Tell me I’m kind… All this effort I put into introducing you to the best thing that has happened to Miyagi. _To the world_.” The man’s voice, now clearer than before, sounded as though he were sane despite the words spouted out of his mouth. He could still imagine the gleaming, bemused orbs shining behind the mask, the spread wide horrifying grin and deep, rotten creases forming on his features. _He could still imagine it and could feel his burning gaze lingering on him, on every cut and stab and bruise on his skin, on every part of him that he was yet to break and shatter and **God **did it hurt. So much that he wished for nothing else but death._

He wanted to die.

“It hurts doesn’t it…? _You want to die, don’t you?_” The chuckles that left the man were straight out of a horror movie. “_You can’t help but pray for a quick death… right, Tobio? That the final hit will be your very last?_”

_“St-stop_…” he wheezed out, trembling as the words came out croaky and irritated, the vibrations of his speech burning the tender walls of his throat, the searing, sharp heat unbearable even as he continued to speak. _Let it end. Let it end_. _“Stop… please… don’t hurt us anymore…_”

“But we’re having so much fun!” the man retorted, the heat of the man’s presence by his side suddenly decreasing its proximity, retreating footsteps padding against the stained wooden floorboards as he felt his torturer part from him, however momentarily. “Aren’t we, _Shoyou_?” he heard his crazed voice, now barely a distance away, inquiring the shorter male positioned just across from him. The man’s steps squeaked and plodded against the numerous stains he assumed had now stained every inch of the floor, the traces of its former polished shine forever tainted from existence.

Pained, agonized, moans pierced through his ears not a moment later.

He imagined the man slashing away at the redhead again. _Hurting him again and again and again_. Stabbing and smacking and breaking everything over and over _again_ _and again _till there was nothing left but a body coated in layers of suffering and endless torment. Until there was nothing left except what was once the memory of bliss and ethereal happiness buried underneath the bloodied floors his bruised knees currently scraped against.

_Hinata… I’m sorry. _He could hear the moans increase in volume, the image of his partner’s pained, agonized expression flashing ceaselessly before his blinded eyes._ I can’t think. I can’t move. I can’t save you… I’m sorry…_

_I’m so sorry_.

It took only another half-second before the moans transcended into a piercing, muffled scream, cries that rang deafeningly across the space, ringing through his head in an unending torturous echo, and joining the several other cries still embedded deep within the depths of his mind.

Despite the blindfold, he couldn’t avoid squeezing his eyes shut, still, _still_ unable to bear the agonized screams of his suffering teammates.

Something clattered to the floor soon after Hinata’s cries had died down to mere whimpers, the chain behind him rattling against the ground once more as a tortuous silence filled with only Hinata’s wheezed breathing settled over the gymnasium.

“Tobio.”

The man’s voice had him jolt on instinct, his body quaking from the absolute terror.

_He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop the fear the ran through every working vein in his body_._ He couldn’t stop the quiver of his voice as he parted his cracked lips to speak._

“Y-yes…?”

“What did I do to Shoyou?”

He felt his heart spike as the question registered in his brain. _What did he do? _“You—” _No hesitations. No incorrect answers. Do not make it sound like a question. _“You sliced him.”

“And how did I slice him?”

_He got it right_.

A sudden spark of hope welled up within his system at the mere knowledge that his answer hadn’t been greeted with the chain against his back, and he gulped, trying to think faster than his lethargic brain would allow. A small tinge of courage shone through the all-consuming darkness in his sights, and with the last of his strengths, he reached out for it. Maybe he could save Hinata. _Before the darkness could spread to his partner, before he was turned into nothing but a long-gone memory, he’d save him_.

“The—” _The knife would be too obvious. The clatter on the floor was too heavy to be a knife, right? _“Th-the hedge trimmer….!”

The man chuckled at his answer, delight painting every lilt of his tone. “So enthusiastic,” he commented. “You’re right, however. Well done, Tobio. You passed the round. _Barely_.”

It was like the floodgates of relief poured from above and washed away the hopelessness from his soul, a thankful sigh escaping his lips.

_He only got it right because he’d gotten it wrong too many times._

He was silent as he listened to the man’s footsteps pad away from Hinata, the jingling of chains following after, and not much else.

Was he done? Was it over? Had they made it?

_Did it finally get to end?_

Just as the questions swirled around his head, he felt something cold and heavy wrap around his throat, his confusion only growing as it was pulled taut and tight, choking the air out of him.

_W-what was happening? Why—_

“As fun as that was,” he heard the man speak again, and this time his voice emerged from his right, a small distance away where Tsukishima—probably still unconscious—was, the rattling and dragging of chains across the floor following his every footstep. “I really must get going… we still have three more hours before The Purge ends, after all. And you guys were wonderful fun, but I’m afraid this is where it ends.”

The chain around his neck pulled even harder, squeezing his neck and making it impossible for air to enter or escape.

He heard confused complaints from the others as well, Yamaguchi’s confused _“Wait… stop, please…!” _and Hinata’s struggling muffled against whoever was trying to choke him lifeless louder than the screams echoing in his head.

“Be happy, Tobio, Shoyou, Kei, Tadashi.”

_No—_

“_Your suffering finally ends_.”

** _No_ ** _._

Slowly, painfully, he could finally feel his consciousness fading away, the darkness encompassing his vision bleeding into his brain, numbing his senses into nothing. He could feel the life slip faintly from his hands like dry sand from the beach, nothing, no leverage, no rope to grasp onto, no lingering thread to save him from slipping away from existence.

He felt so much and everything at once; the fear, the longing, the refusal to be cut off from the world.

He felt so much and yet the nothingness threatened to devour_ every inch of him_.

_He…_

** _He didn’t want to die_ ** _._

Not now. Not when there was so much he wanted to do. Not when he still wanted to play more volleyball.

_Not when he still wanted to see his mom… and visit his dad in Singapore before he graduated high school. _

_He still wanted to beat Oikawa…_

_And he wanted to play on the court… he wanted to set to Hinata one more time._

_He wanted to live. _

** _One more time_ ** _. _

Before Kageyama could feel his consciousness slip away, just as he crossed the threshold into the all-encompassing consuming darkness, loud bangs resonated across the huge space of the gym, heavy thuds juddered the stained floors, and panicked voices called out for their names right before he fully succumbed to the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned how much I love cliffhangers? They're literally my favorite part in writing.  
Anyway, thanks for reading! Happy new year, and see ya next week my lovelies <3
> 
> ~Sincerely, Star


	5. Chain Game- III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (CONTINUATION BITCHES))
> 
> I actually was supposed to post this yesterday but I had a test to study for so it had to be postponed 😅 (Hope I'm forgiven!!!). And as for those who might be reading one of my fics, One Hour and Then, chapter 12 is underway so please be patient!!!  
Till then, enjoy...
> 
> ((Edit: I forgot to add this initially, but that asterisk '*' I'd left in the flashback was Tanaka talking. It could also have been Noya, but I'd been initially thinking of Tanaka when writing the line))

Ukai felt his stomach roil in revulsion as he took in what he could only describe as a blood-soaked horror show.

He could barely register the shrieks and horrified gasps flanking his sides, only feeling the gun in his hands tremble along with his shocked still, terrified limbs, no more than a single question bouncing across the walls within his head as his gaze fell upon the scene in front of him.

_How could anyone do this to another human being?_

What was once the Karasuno Volleyball gym was coated in a sully of red, the stench of metallic blood mixing in with the faint trails of vomit was enough to have him heave, whatever he had for lunch threatening to escape his weakened stomach. The perpetrators he’d shot were lying on the floor, each one of them bleeding profusely from where he’d nailed them on the head. He’d never wished death upon someone before, but there was a sick sort of joy from seeing them laying lifeless on the floor.

Although it was merely a small pardon compared to what made his stomach churn the most.

Lying on the blood-soaked gym floors, arms suspended from chains that had been connected to the railings, lay his one and only first years, each one of them looking deader than the men he’d shot moments before, their bodies covered in a litany of bruises and injuries not even well-trained war-soldiers would have experienced in a month. And those were just the one’s he could _see_.

_Oh God_…

He was only struck out of his stupor once someone ran past him, bumping him in the shoulder in his hurry to rush to the bleeding teenagers on the floor.

_Right. He needs to get his shit together_. This was far from over.

_“KEI! TADASHI!”_

_“SHOYOU! TOBIO! Oh my God—” _

_“Who would do this to someone—!” _

_“W-what the fuck. That ain’t right…" _

In front of him, Akiteru, Saeko, Takeda-sensei and Seijoh’s Yahaba rushed towards the first years, Ukai following right after, holding on tightly to the gun in his grip, trying to focus on defending them in case any Purge crazed lunatic decided to come their way. He’d only realized his mistake as he got closer to the first years, and had to look at the damage done to them up-close.

He heaved up his lunch.

On the floor, in front of him were Kageyama and Hinata, and a little ways to his right were Yamaguchi and Tsukishima. And they looked to have been tormented beyond all reasoning.

Takeda was the first to move, instantly busying himself with trying to undo the chain around Kageyama’s raw, bleeding wrists, the chain that had been wrapped around his neck tossed to the floor to reveal red, angry bruises traced around the surface of his throat. His shirt which might have been white before was dyed red, the places where it had been torn by external forces only revealing sweltering bruised skin underneath, the skin of his arms and legs bleeding profusely from stab wounds and lacerations of various depths, the entirety of his right hand missing all of his fingernails, and the left side of his face bruised black and blue.

“_Oh—_how vile,” he heard him whisper, looking over his wounds, and placing his finger beneath his nose to check if he was breathing. “He’s alive, but he’s badly injured,” he elaborated, peeking underneath his shirt and going through his visible injuries. “Especially on his back and ribs, and his wrist seemed to have been dislocated. I’m no doctor, but I’m certain he’ll…” He gulped down a terrified breath, trying to calm his nerves as he continued the evaluation. “He _should_ live,” he declares. “How’s Hinata?”

Saeko, tasked with handling Hinata, undid the tight chains around his wrists and removed the one around his neck, only to be met with the same result, sporting injuries just like Kageyama, with the exception of the deep gruesome gash in his side that extended in a broad jagged line and stopped at his stomach. “He’s…” Saeko grit her teeth, looking as though she was trying to fight the urge to throw up. She looked up from the bloodied boy in her arms, up from the face cut up and bruised black and blue, and right at Takeda, tears in her eyes as she inhaled in a shaky breath. “_What do you think?_ He’s not fine!” she yelled, clenching her fist over Hinata’s chest, the corners of her eyes crinkled in a glare that was far from angered. She looked distraught. Disgusted. “_Oh God… _why these kids?” she cried to no one, the trickling blood dribbling from the corners of Hinata’s mouth running down his chin and neck, staining her pitch-black pants. “_These bastards deserve to suffer_ _for what they’ve done_.”

“Saeko-san! Please lay him on his side to stop him from choking!” Takeda instructed quickly, momentarily snapping her out of her lament and throwing her focus back on Hinata, whose mouth was already spurting out trickles of blood.

“_Shit!_” she swore upon realization, quickly but gently laying the ginger haired male on the floor and turning his body to the side, trying her best not to aggravate the boy’s sensitive bruises as she watched the blood flow out onto the floor. “T-Takeda-san, he’s been stabbed in the stomach!”

“Get the other first aid kits!” The teacher instructed Ukai, trying to remove Kageyama’s shirt with the safety scissors he’d brought for cutting gauze raps. He’d brought a few first-aid tools, including disinfectants and bandages, but none of them had thought to account for the worst-case scenario on their way there. “They’re gonna need emergency stitches. The tools are in the back. _Hurry!_”

_None of them would have ever imagined—_

The gun-wielding coach nodded in response, running off from the scene and back through the gym doors, leaving the rest of the occupants to take care of the horribly assaulted teenagers.

If he was being honest, he’d expected The Purge the moment it was announced. It was why he’d advised everyone to go home early, just a few moments before the day’s practice ended. If the fact that The Purge was actually coming wasn’t true, then it wasn’t true. But if it just so happened to have even the barest modicum of verity behind it, then they would have averted the possibility of being caught in the crossfires of a major disaster.

However, there hadn’t been a single person in Miyagi who looked as though they took the announcement seriously. And that included his players.

_*“Come on coach, there’s no way you might actually believe that crap, right?”_

But nevertheless, they’d opted to take his advice, and promised to try to leave as early as they could, although they all doubted there would be any Purging commencing in the small, quiet countryside town of Miyagi. It had seemed impossible at the time, almost unfeasibly ridiculous.

_Now, he wished they’d been right, even a little bit_.

Later in the day he’d been disturbed with phone calls from Takeda, who’d also been troubled himself with phone calls coming from some of the parents of the volleyball players, most of them issuing complaints of their children having not come back home minutes before the start of The Purge had been announced. So in the midst of the chaos, they’d set out to search for them, Ukai arming himself with a gun he’d long since wielded since his store had gotten robbed that one time—much to the teacher’s surprise—and going off in his car around the town that only seemed to gradually rise in unbridled chaotic pandemonium.

They’d run into Tanaka Saeko and Tsukishima Akiteru an hour later.

The two of them had been on a date prior to The Purge’s announcement, and had opted to search for the missing students as well after the older Tsukishima’s mother had called to see if her youngest was with him, only for him to find out he hadn’t returned home at all.

The original plan had been to ride behind the small van through the chaos-ridden streets of Miyagi, but that had instantly been discarded as Ukai’s tires had gotten punctured and they’d nearly been attacked by a lunatic brandishing a chainsaw. All of them proceeded to switch tactics, joining the couple in the van instead, and trying to weave their way across town to Karasuno, even though the streets and roads became narrower and longer with every quick swerve, emergency turn or hasty retreat they took.

In the end they’d ended up swapping out her small van for an even bigger one upon being attacked once more, after they’d tried to rescue a kid from being burnt alive by marauders wearing clown masks several neighborhoods away from the school—that kid being Seijoh’s Yahaba, who’d joined them in the van for his own safety immediately he’d been saved.

From there it wasn’t all smooth sails and straight roads to their destination. They’d taken several detours and averted other sorts of crisis, but they finally made it to Karasuno High School.

The gym was the first place they’d checked.

And he wasn’t sure if it had been the sounds of horrific, petrified, god-awful screaming, or the sadistic echoes of voices bouncing across the spacious gymnasium walls, or the sickening whistles of death, blood and fear wafting through the air, but something had moved his body faster, something had lifted up his hand to aim, and something had caused him to kill the men he’d seen trying to murder his kids, sending them straight to the ground before he could even breathe.

And despite the relief he’d felt upon knowing he was able to nail them all in the head, he feared he’d been too late to save them.

Shoving the packs underneath his arms, Ukai quickly shut the back door of the van and ran back to the gym, periodically looking behind and sideways, half-expecting to be caught unaware by a sporadic attack at any moment. His paranoia felt warranted after the night he’d witnessed under the three hours of its initial commencement, and he wouldn’t put it past anyone to suddenly come hopping out of a bush, pointing a gun, or brandishing a knife in his direction.

The stab on his shoulder still ached from when they’d been attacked during their earlier venture towards the school.

“Hey, Sensei!” His voice echoed through the massive space of the gym, the loud screeches of his foot kicking the metal door closed following suit as he wielded the emergency kits before him. The club advisor looked up from where he’d been carefully wrapping up Kageyama’s arm with a makeshift spindle for his dislocated wrist, relief trickling into the coat of graveness splattered across his countenance.

“Good. Please drop them here and assist Tanaka-san with Hinata,” he instructed, gesturing to where Saeko was busying herself with trying to stop the excessive bleeding from Hinata’s cut-open stomach. “Tsukishima-san,” the advisor quickly switched over to the other side of the gym, worryingly looking over at Akiteru who looked to shaking with unbridled emotion while desperately holding on to his brother as though he would shatter the next second. “Please, for the time being, remain calm. Is he breathing now?”

“_W-what_—?” The older Tsukishima jerked his head up, veering a miniscule amount of his attention towards the sensei while his grasp on his brother lessened, like he was suddenly remembering what he was supposed to be doing. “Y-yeah… _yeah_, I think so.” He nodded in reply, shaking his head like he was trying to prioritize his mind’s focus, blinking profusely before looking up and nodding his head again, ensuring the younger was propped up against him to relieve the pressure of his broken bones against his lungs. His eyes were red. “What do I do next?!”

Takeda lifted a hand, pointing towards one of the boxes. “We have some gauze and thread in there, you’ll need to wrap up his ribs to stop them from fracturing even further. If you can, you must hurry. Don’t remove the knife in his leg yet. We can fix his arm and everything else when we get back into the van; we can’t stay here for much longer,” he declared quickly, going back to Kageyama’s injuries and focusing on closing up the largest, most worrisome ones. Ukai had joined Saeko and had already unwrapped some gauze, aiding her in closing up the stabs and wounds on his legs and arms.

“Yahaba-kun—" Takeda turned over to address the Seijoh second year next, but only ended up blinking in surprise as he found the brunet already wrapping up Yamaguchi’s chest, his hands clumsy yet cautious, like he knew what he was supposed to do and was trying his best to act on it as soon as possible. “_Oh,_” Takeda adjusted his glasses. “I see you already know what to do…”

“Huh?” Yahaba stopped momentarily to gaze over to the Karasuno club advisor, his fingers pausing in the motion of tying the ends of the cloth together. “Uh—well, my mom’s a nurse, and she taught me some stuff about first aid so…” He turned his head to the side, then went back to finishing up his task. “She said it was important that I knew some stuff in case it was ever important, and… yeah.”

“Ah, I see.” Takeda simply responded, then turned back around.

As soon as he was done with Kageyama, he’d gone on to check on the states of the other first-years before declaring them safe for movement into the truck.

“Unfortunately, we have only one stretcher,” he’d said, even though it had been a known fact from the beginning. _It really was unfortunate_. Ukai had never thought they’d be needing more than one. He looked over at the other first years from where he was leaning against the wall beside the door and keeping watch, to where they were kept lying beside each other, most of their injuries covered but still in critical condition. _Yeah… _

_Really unfortunate_.

“Well, it’s not like we could do anything about it at the time,” Saeko sighed, holding up Yamaguchi underneath his arm while Yahaba took his legs, the both of them gingerly lifting him up the ground. “We’re lucky the truck we found already had a stretcher in it.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Akiteru agreed, holding up his brother alongside Takeda, and hoisting him off the floor. “Since Tobio-kun had more internal injuries and fractures, it would make sense for him to use the stretcher first of all… although, I wish everyone could share.”

Takeda released a tired breath, warily walking over to the door while carrying the injured middle-blocker. “I wish so as well. Although, we really do need to hurry. We don’t know if or when we might be att—”

A loud bang resounded within the set of the gym, echoing across every corner and surface, and stopping hearts faster than it did the breaths of the gymnasium’s occupants. In the span of a second,

Someone screamed.

A body dropped to the floor.

And a second trigger was pulled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Ya’ll should have honestly expected this cliffhanger already.)
> 
> Thanks for reading!!! I really appreciate all the comments and kudos that ya'll leave me <3<3<3 See you in the next chapter!!!


	6. Lost and Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi himself wondered why on Earth someone thought this was a good idea, and how human beings could be so hypnotized with the concept of ‘freedom without consequence’, that they threw away their humanity so effortlessly and without remorse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me four months, but I was finally able to update! I was honestly planning on posting this a week ago, but I wanted to finish the next chapter so I'd get to update quickly. Unfortunately I don't know how to keep to an update schedule, so I might either be really quick or really slow. Hopefully I'll start updating once/twice a week very soon! But till then, enjoy!
> 
> This chapter starts off a little bit tame.

Akaashi murmured a “thank you” as someone passed to him a hand-sized food packet, the item warm in the palm of his hands as he cradled the pouch to his chest, the warmth a welcome comfort even while stuck within the concrete walls of an office building’s safe room.

He didn’t, in the long run, particularly mind. The safe room of his father’s workplace was relatively large enough to contain most of the staff that didn’t want to go back to their homes—the other half of them needing to attend to the children they’d left alone in their houses—and there was an indefinite supply of light, food and water that would last them for as long as the Purge was going to hold in the entirety of Japan. So far, he’d been stuck in there for a total of about four hours. It was only a matter of time before the bedlam of chaos would end.

_He just had to wait_.

“Akaashi-kun, are you okay?” One of his father’s co-workers—_or his assistant?_—called for his attention, prompting him to look up from where he’d been staring intently at the food pouch clutched in his hard grip. She had a concerned look on her face, her eyes sporting wearied lines that lay unhidden behind her glasses. Blinking, caught almost unaware, he nodded at the question, smiling tiredly.

“I’m fine, Satsuma-san.”

“That’s good…” she sighed, leaning down and dropping on the mat to sit beside him. All of the chairs in the room were full and occupied, so a few of them had taken to the floor. “Your father should be on his way, along with your mother. There’s no need to worry anyway,” she continued. “The roads here have been barricaded, and there’s also security. They should be safe as long as they follow the barricaded route.”

Akaashi hummed and nodded, gingerly unwrapping the foil concealing the food pouch in his hands.

An excited gasp originated from the side of the safe room, where a staff was staring pleasingly at his phone. He grinned, then shot up from his seat. waving the device in the air and heightening the volume of his voice so it carried through the space. “We got four bars!”

Relieved whoops travelled across the room as the announcement was broadcasted, people veering over to their phones and laptops in an attempt to use as much as the signal as they could before it disappeared again.

“The signal’s back…?” Satsuma blinked, tugging her phone from her pants pocket and checking the length of the bars on the top screen, the bars displayed covering enough to acquire a proper signal to make and receive a phone call. “Finally...” She sighed in relief, running her fingers through the haggard ponytail draping over her shoulder and tossing it to her back. “Your father should be calling any time from now, right?” Akaashi nodded. “Now that there’s a connection, you should call your friends while you wait, to make sure they’re okay too. We might not have this signal for long.”

“Ah…” He leaned forward, retrieving his cell from the school bag by his side. _That’s true. He didn’t know how his teammates were doing_. “You’re right.”

With the news of The Purge flittering about, his father had made sure he’d come straight to his office as soon as school was over, so that meant he’d missed out on the day’s volleyball practice as well. His father had said, and he quotes: “I’m not risking my son’s life in a nationwide anarchism just so he could toss a ball around.” And while Akaashi hadn’t been all too pleased with it, he was glad his teammates and coach understood why he had to forego practice for the day. A few of the player’s had even opted to close early as well.

Meanwhile, Akaashi’s father had made sure he was fully secured in the safe room with the rest of the office staff, while the man himself went out to retrieve his wife from her job on the other side of the city, several miles from where he was, so that they could all be together and wait the Purge out in the security of the safe room. It was supposed to be an hour-long drive, but given the country’s current circumstances, he wasn’t surprised it was taking even longer.

He elected to call Bokuto first, thoroughly curious to know how the Fukorodani captain was faring. He’d been the most reluctant to let Akaashi leave as early as he had, but he’d also been understanding of why he’d had to. It was merely a precaution for the situation that had risen.

Tokyo was a mess, as far as the news travelling around the safe room went. Some staff were logged onto local news feeds and live cameras of daring individuals who were out recording the chaotic event, and what he’d managed to hear had gone beyond the most vile, most disturbing things he’d ever seen.

_Someone had been stripped and melted in a drum of acid._

_People were being strapped onto cars and were burned or bombed alive._

_Houses and stores were being robbed and senseless violence ran rampant on the streets._

_Chaos, death and casualties everywhere…_

Akaashi himself wondered why on Earth someone thought this was a good idea, and how human beings could be so hypnotized with the concept of ‘freedom without consequence’, that they threw away their humanity so effortlessly and without remorse. After today, those same people would be walking around the streets as though they hadn’t freely murdered a few innocent people the previous night, they’d go to the very stores they’d robbed, and talk amongst the very people whose lives they’d threatened and scarred with self-satisfied smiles on their faces as though they’d remained as innocent as they’d been a week ago. And no one would be none the wiser.

Because it would happen again. And it would surely be worse than before.

Akaashi’s phone beeped, requesting he should leave a message. Bokuto hadn’t picked.

Akaashi didn’t know he was squeezing his still-uneaten food pouch till the condiments were dripping down his hands, and pieces of vegetable and meat stained the light shirt he’d changed into. He grimaced at the mess, sighing as he motioned to get up from the floor to retrieve something that would wipe off the food from his clothes. However, Satsuma’s hand extended in front of him along with a stack of tissues before he could venture for his search, and he gingerly picked up the stack from her hands with a relieved smile and a word of gratitude.

He dropped the messy sachet on one of the paper plates earlier handed to him, and got busy with wiping at the stain on his shirt, his other hand focusing on redialing Bokuto’s number.

Akaashi comforted himself in knowing his phone was thankfully ringing. He could freely assume the other was too far from his cell, or was busy with something mundane—like getting dinner or something alike—and would come back to see Akaashi had called. He probably wasn’t aware the signal had returned. It could also be possible there wasn’t any signal around Bokuto’s house in the first place.

The line flopped, and the recorded request to leave a message sounded out again.

_In actuality, the possibilities were endless_.

Huffing out in a frustrating mixture of aggravation and anxiety, he rose up on his feet and moved away from his position on the floor. He wasn’t so much looking for a proper signal as he was aiming to somehow quell the apprehension pooling in his gut. _The connection was fine, anyway_. _He was truthfully more worried than anything_. Did Bokuto have somewhere he could hide? Was he safe?

Maybe he should call someone else. Konoha would know where the whereabouts of the captain was as they seemed to be closer in regards to being from the same year, same team, and living not too far from each other. Yukie and probably Komi would be close seconds. He opted for the former, and was glad when it was picked up after the first ring.

“Yo, Akaashi,” the spiker greeted casually, sounding a bit too blasé given they were currently in the middle of a rendition of the apocalypse. “What’s up? You good?”

“I’m fine, Konoha-san…” he replied. “You sound well.”

“I’ve been okay, actually.” Akaashi rose his brows at the male’s words in a parody of slight surprise and a bit of relief, then blinked as Konoha quickly added to his response. “I mean—okay as I _should _be. Its chaos outside right now, honestly. My house has an inbuilt Panic room, so we’re hiding in here till it all blows over,” he said, a muffled voice speaking in the background as he talked. “We’ve got electricity and a bunch of supplies, so we’ll be fine as long as we stay in here.”

“Good to hear,” Akaashi remarked, glad that one of his teammates were safe from the Purge’s mayhem at the very least. He squeezed his thumb in his fist as he voiced the question itching at the back of his mind. “Have you heard from Bokuto-san?”

“Bo?” He could envision Konoha scratching at the back of his neck as he hummed in thought. “Not lately…? I called like, two or so hours ago and he was fine. But since then? Haven’t heard from him.”

“You called?” Akaashi didn’t realize his tone had risen till Satsuma was giving him a surprised look. “What—” He brought the volume of his voice down a tad. “What did he say?”

“That he was okay…?” Konoha replied, syllables slackened as he seemed as though he was trying to register Akaashi’s train of thought from the other end of the line. “Akaashi, you need to relax. I’m sure he’s okay. I mean, why wouldn’t he be fine right now?” A moment of silence passed before Konoha was back to trying to make his prior statement not sound like a joke of some kind. “Uh—electricity was down in his neighborhood for a while. His phone could probably be charging right now…?”

“Probably…?”

“Maybe you should call Bokuto again if he isn’t picking,” Konoha suggested, the voice in the background speaking again and drawing the male away from the conversation. Akaashi listened as the third year talked back with the owner of the voice—an older woman, possibly his mother—for a while, before returning back to Akaashi and sighing tiredly through the receiver. “Sorry Akaashi, I have to go. I’ll call back in a few minutes. Stay safe.”

Akaashi paced to the end of the room, staying beside one of the occupied couches and leaning against it. He slid down till he was on the floor again, his back against the back of the couch. “You too, Konoha-san. Stay safe.” With that, the line was cut, and without a second to spare Akaashi went back to trying Bokuto’s number again, hoping upon hope with every ring that passed by that the other would pick it up.

But even after trying about seven more times, each one repeatedly sent him again and again to voicemail.

Konoha had made good on his word and called again after nearly half an hour had passed, and Akaashi relayed to the other the lack of news concerning the Fukorodani captain and his whereabouts or current status. The third-year spiker had suggested he called everyone they knew to ask if they’d caught wind on the male currently missing in action, and Akaashi had opted to trying to call the other till he eventually picked up. _If he’d eventually pick up_.

Another half-hour passed by with no returning calls or receptive response from Bokuto, before the signal ultimately went out again, and Akaashi was left laden with worry and anxiety over the fact that his closest friend might be in an immense amount of trouble with no one to help him.

Satsuma found him ducked by the couch, gripping his phone tightly in one hand and running his fingers through his hair with the other in unrepressed distress. His mind had been so pressed with quickly rising apprehension and fears that went far beyond his comprehension that he’d barely noticed the lady approach him till gentle hands were resting atop his shoulders, and the sound of his name being called resonated loudly through his ears and the space of his head. Looking up, Akaashi blinked at the frazzled mien of Satsuma crouching right before him.

Her glasses looked somewhat askew, and her hair was rougher than he’d noticed, blond tendrils falling over her forehead and down the side of her face in a messy pattern. She’d taken off her coat, and her sleeves had been pulled up to her arms. She looked slightly panicked.

“S-Satsuma-san?”

“Akaashi-kun, are you okay?” she inquired, her hands shaking his shoulders with every syllable. He looked at her in confusion, and was about to voice out the question borne from his dying curiosity before she opened her mouth to speak again. “I need you to stay calm. The office is—we’re being attacked.”

Akaashi’s heart dropped to his stomach, his eyes widening at the news. _At this time…? _“The office…? But what about the security?”

“I…” She grit her teeth, eyes wavering elsewhere as though searching for an answer that didn’t conclude the worst-case scenario. “I don’t know,” she ended up saying, releasing a worn-out sigh. “The camera feeds are blotted out with smoke, and someone broke in through the lobby. So far, we’ve only seen one guy, and he’s been just been kicking down doors and thrashing a few equipment around. A few offices have been lighted on fire.”

“Has…” Akaashi swallowed. _This wasn’t good. Were his parents back yet? _“Has anyone been caught?”

“Not to my knowledge, no,” She shook her head, then peered over to stare over at the people gathered by the screens displaying the security cameras’ feeds. “He hasn’t come near the basement, so we’re safe for the time being.” Satsuma redirected her gaze back to him, piercing and solemn as she uttered her next set of words with as much seriousness as someone willing to jump into a sea of flames for the sake of another soul. “But I need you to be prepared in case we gotta run. Do you understand? Boss would kill me if I let you die in this mess.”

Akaashi acknowledged her words, and then nodded, exhibiting a similar resolve in the depths of his gaze. Just as he was about to ask to see the feeds for himself, wondering if he could gauge the insurance of their current safety, his phone rang.

And picking it up, on the screen of the cell read the name ‘Bokuto Kotarou’.

With a deftness he wasn’t even aware he had, his finger moved to the call button, and he fervidly pressed it against his ear, nerves shaking with an impatience built up by the consuming anxiety that had been eating away at his innards for the past hour. He yelled Bokuto’s name into the phone in tandem with his harried movements, grip tight against the casing and back pressed to the sofa’s behind with an energy that would have pushed it backwards had it not been occupied by several people. The silence that greeted him had him gritting his teeth and rising to his feet. He ignored Satsuma’s looks of worry.

“Bokuto-san?” he tried again, only to be met again with silence the next second. His heart beat erratically against his chest, fear seizing his breaths and tightening the air in his lungs. _He wasn’t responding… why wasn’t he—?_

“Bokuto—”

“_A-Akaashi_…”

Air he didn’t know he’d been holding escaped his lips as he breathed out in relief, his hand clutched his shirt, resting over his heart to feel for the pulsations beating through his body. _He’s alive_. He wasn’t aware of just how much he needed that reassurance till his voice had spoken through the receiver and had uttered his name. Akaashi gripped the phone impossibly tighter towards his ear.

“Bokuto-san… I’ve been trying to call you for over an hour,” he said, worried, anxious, but thankful. _He was speaking to him. He thought he’d been— _“Where are you? Are you safe?” He wanted to tell him how much he’d been worried about him, how Konoha and the others were eager to know if he was alright and how he was and where he’d been. How glad he was to have seen his name on the screen, and to have heard his voice. But then a cough had sounded over the line, and Akaashi paused.

A low, labored wheeze stemmed from the speakers, and all too suddenly, the relief that had once coated his ambience melted away, and Akaashi could feel the slow rise of apprehension and unease welling up within every inch of him once more. He felt sweat drop down the line of his temple.

“Bokuto-san,” He spoke much quieter now, his tone bordering on cautious and wary as he felt his former worry morph into something much deeper. “… Are you alright?”

More labored breathing, more seconds of silence, then,

“_Akaashi… I’m sorry…_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who else loves the fresh smell of suspense and angst in the morning? No one? Only me...? Okay then...  
Thanks for reading! I literally missed this fic and missed reading your screams about my chapters in the comments. I literally can't wait to write more! Till next time, lovelies <3<3
> 
> ~Sincerely, Star.

**Author's Note:**

> Well now that I've gotten this out of my system, I can't believe this is finally out there. Hope you enjoyed it, cuz there's more suffering to come.
> 
> ~Sincerely, Star.


End file.
